Chapter 22

You helped the trendy guy who had checked in to walk out.

The lights are like layers of colored glass domes. You walk through the corridor and then take an elevator.

There were too many drunk people, and the elevator was crowded with people. At first, neither of you spoke, but you exchanged glances quietly a few times. Seeing that you were in a difficult position, he stepped aside and gestured for you to go down the stairs together.

There were hardly any people in the stairwell, and the music was much quieter.

You don't feel comfortable in the atmosphere of gay bars, and you feel an unbearable depression, which eventually turns into dullness.

You want to leave as soon as possible, but the drunken trendy guy who checked in is like a pervert, saying things like "Brother, shall we have a threesome today?" and "I love it," while pouncing on the long-haired guy and taking off his clothes.

But when he got drunk, he was like a bull, and his movements were so sudden that you instinctively grabbed the trendy guy by the back of the neck. But with a tearing sound, the long-haired man's loose shirt was ripped open, revealing most of his chest muscles and pink genitals. Before you could even appreciate it, the trendy guy showed no mercy and vomited all over the long-haired man.

You stand there, awkwardly staring at the long-haired man who also looks astonished.

After vomiting, the trendy guy who checked in was as limp as a puddle of mud and fell fast asleep on the steps.

You paused for a moment, then took off your suit jacket and handed it to him. The long-haired man silently took off his shirt, casually wiped it, and wore a lace-up jacket.

You glanced at him, then glanced at him again, then turned around and grabbed the trendy guy who was checking in at the bar.

He said it behind his back.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome."

He clutched his coat, and at this moment, he no longer had that gentle yet skilled playboy aura; he seemed a bit shy and at a loss.

"What's your name?"

"Me? My name is Fang Xu, as in rising sun."

He followed you, helped you get the trendy guy who was checking in at the hotel into the car, saw you off, and added you on WeChat.

After that, you handled everything on your own. You dealt with the post, forced the trendy guy to apologize, and made him swear he would never make the same mistake again.

The small ripples gradually subsided, becoming insignificant in your life.

You might think about Fang Xu occasionally. He has a unique temperament, and when he's reserved and shy, it reminds you of some things from the past.

But you never imagined you would actually have contact. He seems popular, and his personality isn't your type. Whether as friends or clients, it would bring a lot of trouble.

It all started out of boredom; he complained on his WeChat Moments about his nephew's summer homework and criticized the incomprehensible problem-solving approach.

You casually clicked on it and noticed a few obvious errors, then commented a few words out of professional habit.

After a while, my phone beeped. The other person greeted me in a friendly and relaxed manner, asking how I would do the next few questions.

You held your phone, staring blankly at the question for a minute.

Just now, after you finished dinner and exercise alone, your mind was racing with thoughts. You couldn't help but check your senior's WeChat Moments to make sure he was taking his treatment seriously and whether he had died.

After reading it, you felt terrible, so you called Qiu Li. But after getting married, he was busy taking care of his wife and son and didn't have time to listen to your troubles. You felt very frustrated and smoked a cigarette.

At this moment, his message is like a short video to relieve boredom. You may not like it very much, but after clicking on it, you can't help but feel relieved.

At least, there's something else we can do.

You feel that the healing process might take longer than you imagined after the breakup, and that your mind might have calmed down, but your subconscious might not.

My inner world seems to be sick; I can no longer find joy in books, movies, eating, exercising, traveling, or drinking.

Everything seems to have become boring.

You even start to think about the meaning of life, things you've never thought about before.

Back then, you'd be happy about the weather, food, your career, or even the smallest things. But now, happiness is harder to find, and time seems to drag on.

You sighed, wrote down your solution in your notebook, and sent it to him.